Perfect Sin
by Deena
Summary: Crawford and Nagi...I'm not gonna say anymore than that yaoi, heavy lime, sap, language


**************  
Perfect Sin  
By deena  
**************  
  
Nagi stuffed himself into his jacket and shoved on his shoes. Grabbing his keys, he hurried down   
the hall, wincing as he passed Schulderich's room. Loud moans and groans and cries and various   
other sex-sounds filtered out from behind the closed door, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind   
what was going on.  
  
Schulderich and Farfarello had only just recently become lovers and they couldn't keep their   
hands off each other. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing, if either of them had any semblance   
of modesty. But no, they didn't care who saw or heard what they did. They were loud, they were   
kinky and it was enough to driving Nagi crazy.  
  
Is a little peace and quiet too much to ask for?   
  
He hurried into the living room and blinked at the sight of Crawford standing in the front   
hallway, putting on his long, black overcoat. Apparently he wasn't the only one who needed to   
get out. The American looked harassed, his hair tousled and his face faintly wan.  
  
"Wherever you're going, take me with you!" Nagi burst out, rushing towards the older man.  
  
Crawford looked up from binding the belt of his coat. He frowned. "How many times have I told   
you not to wear shoes on the carpet, Nagi?"  
  
Crawford nagging him meant that he wasn't in a good mood. "I'm sorry," Nagi quickly replied in   
what he hoped was a placating tone. "I only just put them on." He looked up at Crawford with   
deliberately wide eyes, a gesture he knew the older man could never resist. "Schu and Farfie   
are being so loud, Brad. I need to get some peace and quiet. Can I come with you? Please?"  
  
"What about your homework?" Crawford demanded.  
  
Nagi rolled his eyes. "How am I supposed to concentrate with all that racket going on?"  
  
The American nodded. "Point noted. You may come with me, then."  
  
Nagi grinned as Crawford held the door open for him. "Sugoi! So where are we going, anyways?"  
  
Crawford locked the door behind them and slipped the key into his pocket. "I don't know."  
  
"Liar." Nagi frowned up at the older man as they headed down the hallway. "Where were you gonna  
go before I asked to come with you?"  
  
"That isn't any of your concern, Nagi," he replied coolly.   
  
"Yeah, right, uh huh." Nagi smirked. "You were going to a bar weren't you? Gonna pick up some   
hot chicks, ne?"  
  
Crawford's voice was calm, features impassive. "You've been spending too much time with   
Schulderich."  
  
Nagi sighed as they reached the elevator. He pressed the down button. "There isn't any point in   
bugging you, Brad, if you aren't gonna react."  
  
Crawford smiled thinly. "At least you recognize defeat, unlike Schulderich."  
  
"Do you *ever* lose control?" Nagi asked curiously, studying the dark haired man.  
  
One long finger pushed up thin, wire frames. "No," he replied curtly.  
  
The elevator door opened and they entered. An uneasy silence stretched between.  
  
Nagi fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket. He knew that his question had annoyed the older man.  
He hadn't meant for it to, he was only curious. Crawford was always in control, everything he   
did was deliberate and logical and perfect. The only emotion he ever seemed to display was   
annoyance.  
  
Nagi couldn't imagine ever being like Crawford for he was temperamental by nature. Any little   
thing set him off, whether into a fierce telekinetic rage or a bout of hysterical laughter. Nagi   
was an extremist with his emotions, a trait that he knew Crawford loathed about him. Of course,   
the American was far too busy dealing with Schulderich and Farfarello and all their faults to   
really worry about him. Crawford had made it known on numerous occasions that he viewed Nagi as   
being far more mature than the other two Schwartz members. Strangely enough, that compliment, if   
it could even be called that coming from Crawford, had pleased him. It wasn't as though Crawford   
was one to freely hand out praises.  
  
The shrill of Crawford's cell phone shattered the silence. He answered it with the crisp,   
authoritative tone that was just *so* Crawford.   
  
Nagi leaned against the mirrored wall of the elevator and studied his reflection. He looked so   
short when standing beside the older man, reaching only up to one broad shoulder. He was   
practically the smallest, scrawniest boy in school. He didn't mind being thin but he did want to   
be taller. Like Crawford. Crawford was always so perfect. Nagi bet that he never had to worry   
about things like having messy hair or being constantly late for class or being the last one   
picked in gym class.  
  
"Nagi?"  
  
Crawford's voice snapped him from his thoughts. "Hmm?"  
  
"That was Mr. Takatori. He requires our presence at a ball he'll be attending tonight."  
  
Nagi wrinkled his nose. "Does that mean we hafta dress up?" He knew he was whining but he   
couldn't help it. He *hated* getting dressed up.   
  
Crawford gave him the LOOK as he pressed the stop button and then the 18th floor button. "We go   
through this every time, Nagi. You know what I expect from you."  
  
"But I don't see why *I* have to wear a stupid suit," Nagi grumbled, pouting. "It's not like I   
do anything important. I just stand around making sure Schulderich doesn't eat too much at the   
buffet and Farfarello doesn't cut anyone up."  
  
"They aren't coming with us," Crawford answered flatly. "It'll be just you and I."  
  
"But you do all the important stuff, Brad! I just stand around! Who cares how I look?"  
  
"This isn't up for negotiations, Nagi. You will dress as benefits your position."  
  
Nagi stuck his tongue out at the older man.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Nagi felt like such a dork. He was wearing a black suit with a forest green shirt beneath it.   
The tie he was also wearing was currently choking him. He felt like a tussled up poodle on the   
leash of a fat, rich lady. He glared silently at the back of Crawford's head as they entered the   
enormous ballroom.   
  
He hated these posh parties where every self-obsessed socialites tried to out-do one another.   
The ladies preened and simpered, bragging of jewels and clothing and exotic vacations. The men   
gloated and smirked, trumping on about property and political holdings and stocks. Everyone was   
the same, rich and greedy and spoiled. These parties were just a social excuse to display and   
boast of one's wealth.  
  
With the sole exception of the food, because afterall, the rich *really* knew how to eat, Nagi   
loathed these parties beyond anything. And tonight would be even worse because Schulderich and   
Farfarello weren't here. Without them and their immature though amusing antics, it would be the   
very height of boredom.  
  
Nagi sighed as he followed Crawford through the thick crowds of elegantly dressed men and women.   
A group of evening gown-clad teenaged girls milling around a gigantic pillar began to giggle and   
bat mascara-coated lashes as he passed by. He resisted the urge to groan. By far, the worst   
thing about these 'protecting-Takatori-at-a-fancy-ball' assignments was the fact that snobby,   
rich daughters were often present. That meant another night of being ogled at and flirted with   
and glomped onto.  
  
I don't care what Brad says. I'm *not* dancing with anyone!   
  
He kept his gaze trained firmly on Crawford's back, refusing to make eye contact with   
leering bips. He knew from experience that the slightest of glances could be misconstrued into   
real affection. Something that only an extremely snobby, spoiled young girl would do.  
  
They exited the main ballroom and headed into the billiards room. The clotting stench of cigar   
smoke and expensive brandy engulfed the room. Nagi coughed and then winced as a particularly loud  
bark of laughter assaulted his ears.  
  
The room was filled with cigar-smoking, half-drunk, important men. Some where playing pool, and   
some were playing cards. The sober ones were discussing business ventures and assets and various   
other financial matters. The inebriated boasted of their wealth and exploits with women and   
adventures in the war. All were being served by attractive waitresses clad in rather risque   
garments.   
  
"Bradley my boy! Glad you could make it!"  
  
Nagi gawked with huge eyes as Takatori rushed up them and clapped Crawford heartily on the back.   
Nagi's jaw dropped. Literally. He could smell the thick odor of alcohol rolling off their boss   
in pungent waves. It made the man's hairy cheeks red and his beady eyes twinkle. Apparently,   
Takatori was a happy drunk. This was news to Nagi because never once, in all the years he'd   
worked for Takatori, had he ever seen the politician drunk.  
  
A busty waitress sashayed by and Takatori stumbled after her, attempting to snatch a glass of   
champagne from the tray she carried.  
  
Nagi gaped openly at the man who he'd always thought of as a crooked bastard. "Is he *drunk*?"   
  
"Obviously."  
  
Nagi turned to look up at Crawford, whose face was as impassive as ever. "Aren't you even a   
little bit surprised? Don't you think it's weird? Or funny? Or-"  
  
Crawford's voice was stern. "Behave yourself, Nagi."  
  
"But he's *drunk*, Brad! Our boss is sloshed!"  
  
Takatori ambled up to them, clutching a glass of champagne. "Look, the little one is here too!"  
  
Nagi stared in horror as that jovial, ruddy face approached him. He took a step closer to   
Crawford and clutched at the older man's sleeve.  
  
"You're just growing up so fast, aren't you?!" Takatori cooed.   
  
He was goaded into speaking by a sharp nudge from Crawford. "Um...yeah!"  
  
To his immense shock, thick fingers reached out and pinched his cheek. Hard. "What a good little   
boy you are!" Suddenly those eerily bright eyes misted over and the merry face clouded. "You're   
just like the son I never wanted!" Takatori bawled loudly.  
  
Nagi inched away until he was nearly hiding behind Crawford. "Brad, I'm scared," he whispered   
loudly.  
  
A portly gentleman stumbled up to them. "Takatori-san!" he slurred noisily, waving his index   
finger wildly. "You have insulted my honor by telling me not in invest in Nobutshiro electronics!  
I challenge you to a poker game!"  
  
"You think to challenge me?" Takatori scoffed, his melancholy disappearing instantaneously.   
"Fine then, I shall *hic* accept! I'll show you the true meaning of defeat, you old buffalo!"  
  
The two intoxicated men lurched away, trading garbled insults along the way.  
  
"You can let go of my arm now," Crawford ordered. "You're wrinkling my suit."  
  
Nagi boggled up at his unflappable teammate. "Brad you are so...so.so...*weird*," he said   
finally. "Doesn't anything bother you?" He grimaced. "Takatori called me his son! And he slapped   
you on the back, calling you 'Bradley my boy'! Didn't that freak you out? It freaked me out.   
Blegh!"  
  
"Mr. Takatori has a low tolerance for champagne," Crawford replied calmly. "I've seen him drunk   
before. It isn't any great spectacle. Nothing that should have you cowering behind me."  
  
"He pinched my cheek!" Nagi burst out. "I'm not a little kid! I'm fifteen!"  
  
"Then act like it."  
  
"Quit nagging me," Nagi grumbled, raking a hand through his bangs. "I swear, sometimes you act   
more like my mother than anything else."  
  
"I am not nagging you," Crawford informed him in frosty tones. "Nor do I act like your mother. I   
only instruct you in a manner which befits-"  
  
"So what are we gonna do now?" Nagi interrupted. The last thing he wanted to hear was another   
one of Crawford's infamous leadership lectures. He gestured to Takatori. "He'll be busy with his   
poker game for a while. I don't wanna stay here. The cigar smoke reeks."  
  
Crawford frowned to let him know that he didn't appreciate being interrupted. "I'll remain here   
with Mr. Takatori. You may do whatever you wish, within limits of course." He stared at the   
Japanese boy with steely eyes. "That means no sneaking off, no using your powers to cause a   
ruckus, no telling off young ladies in crude language, no instigating arguments between-"  
  
Nagi rolled his eyes. "Yes mommy."   
  
The American was not impressed. "Nagi, I'm warning you-"  
  
"I love you too, Brad!" Waving congenially, he sauntered off towards the ballroom, knowing how   
annoyed Crawford must be. He hated not having the last word.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Nagi held his breath and gently parted the huge leaves of the plant he was crouched behind. The   
lofty corridor was empty, save for the two figures about to hold a conversation.  
  
Roughly an hour had passed in which Nagi had avoided simpering girls, eaten a lot of gourmet   
foods and made small talk with a few of Takatori's business associates. Then, just as he had   
been heading back to find Crawford and escape the clutches of a particularly determined-looking   
young lady, he'd spotted *them*. Those two goons from Weiss. The redhead was easily recognizable   
and Nagi identified the brunette as the one with the claw. Both of them were clad in tuxedos and   
mingling about. He knew instinctively that they were up to no good.  
  
So when they had slipped out of the ballroom, Nagi had wasted no time in following them. Thus,   
his current position behind a large plant. Obviously the two Weiss members had something   
important to discuss and Nagi wasn't about to miss it.  
  
"Well?" the redhead demanded in wintry tones. "Why did you bring me out here?"  
  
"I can't stand it any longer. This mission is driving me crazy!"  
  
Unconsciously, Nagi leaned a bit closer. So they were on a mission. And now the brunette was   
going to make the big confession that would inevitably lead to their downfall. And wouldn't   
Crawford be proud that Nagi had been there to catch it. He gloated.  
  
"I hate this damn tux!"  
  
Huh?  
  
"Ken-"  
  
"I feel like a penguin, Aya. Not to mention that this stupid bow tie thing is choking me!"  
  
Nagi felt himself sympathizing with the brunette, even as annoyance steeped in. Here he was,   
hiding behind a plant just to hear this Ken guy whine about wearing a tuxedo? Some lotta waste   
of time this was! Although, a rather large part of him found himself thankful that Crawford   
hadn't made him wear a tuxedo. It looked pretty uncomfortable, judging by the way Ken was   
pulling at his bow tie.  
  
"It won't be that much longer Ken," the redhead responded in a matter-of-fact that was strangely   
reminiscent of Crawford's authoritative voice.  
  
"But why can't we kill that Sumatsu guy now?" Ken demanded. "Then we could get out of these   
miserable things."  
  
Nagi blinked at that. The aforementioned Samatsu was a stock broker and one of Takatori's   
business associates. Takatori loathed the man for reasons unknown and had mentioned on various   
occasions that he wanted him out of the picture. But if Weiss was going to get rid of him than   
it would save Schwartz the trouble.  
  
"Quit complaining," the redhead snapped, looking annoyed. "You know we can't do anything until   
he leaves."  
  
Ken pouted. "I like to complain. 'Sides, it isn't fair. You look elegant, like you belong out   
there. I just look stupid."   
  
Annoyance melted as Aya smiled slightly. "I think you look cute, Ken."  
  
"You're just saying that because you're my boyfriend," Ken retorted.  
  
Nagi's eyes widened at that little declaration. Messy tux boy and icy leader man were a couple?   
Who would have thought?  
  
"I wouldn't say something I didn't mean." And then, Aya pulled the brunette into his arms and   
kissed him.  
  
Nagi gawked at the couple. First Schulderich and Farfarello and now these two? What was this,   
the homosexual assassin's union? Briefly, he wondered if the other two Weiss guys were together.   
But if everyone else was paired up, then that would leave him to be with Crawford...  
  
It would be kinda cool, if I were with Brad.  
  
That thought surprised him, so much that he remained hidden behind the plant even after Weiss   
had left, still in thought.  
  
What in the hell? Why would I wanna be with Brad? Well, other than the fact that he and I are   
the only ones left. I know I sure wouldn't wanna be with Schu or Farfie. But Brad is cool. At   
least he's got discipline, which is more than I can say for those two. And he's intelligent.   
Sure he's preppy but it's in a good way, I suppose. He always looks hot in those white   
And when his glasses slip down his nose, that's kinda cute. Argh, what am I saying? It's *Brad*   
for god sakes! Workaholic Brad who thinks of me as some kind of surrogate son. Besides, he's as   
straight as straight can be. Isn't he? And on that note, am I gay? I must be if I think Brad is   
attractive. But I used to have a crush on that Yuri girl from school so maybe I'm bi? Wait a   
minute, do I really think Brad is attractive? I mean he's so...Brad.  
  
Nagi chewed his lip and thought about it. Of course he respected and even admired the American   
but he had never thought about Crawford in *those* terms before. But now that he *was* thinking   
in *those* terms, he found it hard to stop.   
  
Nagi decided that Crawford was quite nice looking. He was urbane and poised, intelligent and   
articulate. But beneath his lofty exterior lay pure steel and feral strength. He was someone who   
never stopped until he got what he wanted, no matter what the cost. Crawford was deadly   
underneath his sophisticated facade and that was something that Nagi found alluring.   
  
I want to see him now.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Crawford was still in the billiards room, right beside Takatori. Literally. Instead of leaning   
coolly against the wall and observing everything with sharp blue eyes, he was sitting beside   
Takatori at the poker table.  
  
Clutched in one shaky hand was a half empty bottle of whiskey, in the other, a wobbling pair set   
of cards. The American's hair was tousled, his glasses were slipping off his nose and his suit   
jacket was laying in a heap on the floor. His white tie was loosened, the first couple of   
buttons on the white shirt were opened and a normally expressionless face was alcohol-flushed   
and laughing.   
  
Apparently, Crawford had just come to the conclusion of telling a hilarious joke, for all the   
poker players at the tables as well as those watching, burst into a hearty round of rambunctious   
laughter.   
  
Seeing Takatori drunk earlier had shocked Nagi but it had been entertaining since the politician   
was an ass. But seeing Crawford drunk? Crawford, who, as Schulderich so eloquently put it, had a   
perpetual stick shoved up his tight ass, was *drunk*?! Wasn't that a reversal of the natural   
order of things? Didn't it upset the balance of the world or something?  
  
Crawford hated to be out of control. He found getting intoxicated a despicable pastime. So how   
in the holy hell had he managed to drink enough to get inebriated? Nagi knew that Crawford could   
hold his liquor, when he did drink. But if that was the case, then just exactly how much alcohol   
did Crawford consume?  
  
Nagi snapped out of his dazed shock when he heard Crawford mention something about when he   
first joined Schwartz. In a flash, he was at the older man's side. "Uh, Brad?" he broached,   
resting his hand on the man's shoulder.  
  
"Look, the boy came back!" Takatori announced in slurred tones.  
  
Immediately, he was the center of attention as the hoard of intoxicated men began to badger him   
with questions.  
  
Nagi smiled thinly and stoically ignored everyone. "We've gotta go now Brad," he whispered into   
the American's ear.  
  
"But we just got here!" Crawford proclaimed loudly.  
  
"Don't be such a prude, boy!" Takatori shouted. "Sit down, be a man and have a drink with us!"  
  
"We like ol' Brad!" a balding man proclaimed.  
  
"Americans are so fascinating," another man declared, spilling sake all over his hand of cards.  
  
Nagi grabbed Crawford's arm. "Please Brad, I have to talk to you," he pleaded, changing tactics.   
He cast woeful, dinner plate-eyes at his leader and pouted.  
  
Even when drunk, the big-eyed, pouting routine worked. Crawford caved like Schreient at a sale.   
There was much disappointment from the rowdy room as he dragged Crawford away. Apparently, he'd   
been quite the story-telling hit. A leggy blond waitress glared at Nagi, looking especially   
annoyed.   
  
Nagi lugged the older man into the first empty room they came across, which was an ornate study.   
He thrust Crawford into the room and locked the heavy, mahogany doors behind them.  
  
"Sit down," he ordered, observing the way Crawford was swaying slightly.  
  
Crawford sank down gauchely onto the black leather couch that was situated across from the   
massive desk that dominated the room.  
  
Nagi leaned against the enormous, wooden desk and folded his arms over his chest. Though he   
didn't know it, his stern position was a perfect mimicry of the American when he was about to   
give a lecture. "Brad, what the hell were you doing in there?!!!"  
  
Crawford pouted. Yes, he really did pout. And his tone was sulky. "You never let me have any   
fun."  
  
Nagi forgot about being chagrined and boggled at the other man. "Fun? You wanna have fun? Since   
when?"  
  
Normally austere features broke into a wide grin. "Since always! Girls just wanna have fun! You   
know, like the song says!"   
  
Nagi sweatdropped. "You're a man, Brad."  
  
"Well I can't argue with that logic, Nagi!" Crawford agreed brightly. "You're such a smart boy.   
You reminded me of when I was a teenager, only cooler."  
  
"You think I'm cool?" Nagi asked incredulously.   
  
Crawford nodded his head earnestly. "Oh yeah, you're not nerdy like me at all. I like you very   
much!"  
  
Laughter slipped across his face. "You aren't a nerd, you're intelligent."  
  
"I can never have any fun," the American intoned solemnly.   
  
Now here was the chance to get answers from Crawford. It was unethical to take advantage of a   
drunk man but hey, Nagi wasn't the one who'd overindulged. "Why don't you let yourself have any   
fun?" he asked gently. "Why is being in control so important to you?"  
  
"If I don't stay in control than I might do something that I regret," Crawford replied readily   
enough.  
  
"Like?" Nagi prodded.  
  
Crawford didn't reply. Instead, he clumsily removed his glasses and shoved them into his shirt   
pocket. His eyes looked especially blue as he caught Nagi's gaze. A silence rippled between them.  
Nagi felt his breath catch in his throat. Crawford was staring at him oddly, with an expression   
that he'd never seen before. It was almost as though the American was looking at him for the   
first time.  
  
At length, when the older man showed no signs of stopping, Nagi looked away. "Why are you looking  
at me like that?" he muttered, running a hand through his hair.  
  
"I can see without my glasses, you know," Crawford drawled out.  
  
Involuntarily, Nagi shivered. The American's voice was low, his eyes smoldering. In the course   
of these past few minutes, a change had come over him and it unnerved Nagi. Crawford was   
unpredictable now and that could very well be a bad thing.  
  
"Brad, how much have you had to drink?" he asked warily.  
  
"One scotch on the rocks."  
  
Nagi frowned at that. Crawford definitely wouldn't get drunk from just one scotch. "Are you   
sure?"  
  
Crawford looked affronted. Whatever nameless emotion had been lurking, dissolved. "What type of   
fool do you take me for? I know exactly what I had to drink. How hard it is to remember two   
whiskeys?"  
  
The telekinetic had to laugh. "I think we should go home now, Brad. You need to get to bed."  
  
"You're treating me as though I'm a child," Crawford proclaimed, scowling. "But the fact of the   
matter is that you are the child while I am the man."  
  
"Alright then," Nagi conceded, rolling his eyes. "Can we go home now? I have school tomorrow."  
  
Crawford lurched to his feet. "School," he proclaimed theatrically. "An educational institution   
which transforms men into boys!"  
  
"Uh...don't you mean boys into men?"  
  
"Only if a chemistry experiment went wrong!" Crawford laughed heartily. "It's like frick and   
frack!"  
  
What the hell is frick and frack?  
  
Nagi grabbed the older man's arm and attempted to lug him onward. "Brad, we definitely need to   
get you home."  
  
"Unhand me you villainous fiend!" He wrenched out of Nagi's grasp and stumbled away.   
  
And here I thought Schulderich was a stupid drunk.   
  
"I've always wanted to say that," Crawford explained, gripping at the desk to keep from falling.   
"But no villainous fiend has ever tried to grab me."  
  
Nagi coughed deeply into his hand to cover up his snickering. "Until I came along?"  
  
"Oh no!" Dark blue eyes were filled with horror. "You're not a villainous fiend at all, Nagi!   
You're the cutest boy in the whole world!"  
  
Say *what*?  
  
As Nagi tried to digest that truly odd bit of information, he missed Crawford staggering   
towards him. The older man decided to placate what he thought to be Nagi's wounded feelings by   
offering the boy comfort in the form of a hug. Nagi was utterly unprepared for such a magnanimous  
gesture and as such, Crawford's weight sent him pitching backwards onto the leather sofa.   
Crawford fell straight on top of him and the end result left them with their faces inches apart.   
  
Nagi tried vainly not to blush. He had never been this close to Crawford before. Closer up, the   
American was even more attractive. Without glasses, his eyes were deep and his cheeks were smooth  
and gaunt. Nagi's heartbeat quickened as he unconsciously moved back, his head bumping against   
the armrest of the sofa. Crawford's eyes locked with his own.  
  
He managed to rasp out Crawford's name and his voice was hoarse.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
"Aren't you gonna get off me?"  
  
Crawford's shifted a bit closer, his breath cool upon Nagi's face. "Why? Am I heavy?"  
  
Nagi swallowed noticeably. He'd been so intent on studying Crawford's face that he hadn't   
registered the solid weight pressing down on him. "Well no," he answered breathlessly, trying   
desperately not to stare. "But if someone comes in and sees us then."  
  
"Then?"   
  
"Then they might think..." Nagi broke off, unable to think articulately. Crawford was so close,   
his lips nearly resting upon his face. His eye lashes were obscenely long, a fact his glasses   
had hidden and they fluttered against Nagi's forehead.  
  
"Think what?" That stern mouth was gentle now, as it slid down the slope of Nagi's cheek.   
Shivers raced down the young boy's spine and puddled in the pit of his stomach, writhing like   
restless butterflies. Goosebumps sprouted upon his neck, the air around him suddenly   
hypersensitive.   
  
Crawford's mouth was on his cheek.  
Oh God.  
  
"Brad..." he choked out, gasping.  
  
The American didn't respond but then again, his mouth was a little busy. Chiseled lips moved   
slowly towards his mouth and were inadvertently reducing Nagi into a pile of stupid goo.  
  
But wasn't it what he wanted, for Crawford to loose control? And why was he thinking so much   
when thoughts seemed so unnecessary? Images of Schulderich and Farfarello kissing, of the two   
Weiss guys kissing, briefly coursed into his mind. If they had seized what they wanted then why   
shouldn't he? Crawford had once told him that the world belonged to those with direction, to   
those who knew what they wanted and strove for it endlessly.  
  
Well if that indeed was the case...  
  
Nagi turned his head and met Crawford's mouth.  
  
Their first kiss should have been a gentle exploration of each other, soft and tender. It was   
none of those things though. Perhaps it was Crawford's intoxication or Nagi's resolve but the   
kiss ended up being rough. Lips met and scraped over each other with bruising intensity.   
Crawford's tongue thrust into his mouth with carnal domination, jerking and twisting.  
  
Nagi tasted alcohol and lust as he entwined his arms around Crawford's neck and pulled the older   
man deeper into him. He could feel Crawford everywhere, rubbing against the back of his throat   
and chafing the roof of his mouth. His strong body covered Nagi, deft hands raking through his   
hair. In and around, on and over, the American was ubiquitous, cloaking him as much as his   
telekinetic powers did.  
  
He groaned against Crawford when the older man pressed his hips down upon him. Large, hardened   
flesh rubbed against him, creating a luscious friction and it wasn't enough. Nagi clutched the   
American tightly, bringing every part of their bodies firmly into contact.  
  
"Shit Brad," he panted as Crawford slid moist lips from his mouth to the curve of his jaw.  
  
"You are so cute," Crawford growled, jerking his hips hard against him. Teeth raked over   
sensitive skin eliciting throaty cries from the Japanese boy.   
  
Nagi squeezed his eyes shut against all the feelings that were engulfing him. He'd never been   
kissed by a man before and especially not by anyone as sophisticated and experienced as Crawford.  
At best, he'd exchanged a few virginal kisses with girls at school but he'd never even gotten to   
the point of seeing them naked. He was green, through and through, though not for lack of trying.   
  
And now, with *Crawford* of all people...  
  
Crawford caught his mouth again for another breathless, lip-crushing kiss. The world jolted   
inside out and upside down. Illusions became reality and thoughts were solid. Everything   
dissipated as only this instant remained. Kissing and extreme lust, filtering into something   
more, something unexpected. Balance tilted just a bit, giving rise to *this*, an act which,   
surely, must have been otherworldly.  
  
Desire expanded so swiftly, curling into him like oxygen. He was scorching and frigid at the   
same time. Crawford was heavy, pressing him into the sofa's embrace and he welcomed it. Thin   
legs curved around the American's waist, seeking to bring them closer. As though it wasn't real   
and would disappear if his grasp loosened even just a bit.   
  
Nagi wanted it so badly, this uninhibited lack of control from his impassive leader. Passion   
became rampant as they kissed and touched, thrust and explored. Long fingers deftly loosened   
Nagi's tie and unbuttoned his dress shirt. Slipping inside, they skimmed over baby-soft skin and   
found his nipples.  
  
Nagi tore his mouth away and gasped sharply. "Brad..." he managed, exerting phenomenal   
self-control, something which normally would have been equated with the older man, had he not   
been inebriated. "We shouldn't be...hahh...not here...oh God!"  
  
The American was licking and sucking at his neck while lengthy digits stroked over hardened   
nipples. "Then where should we be?" he purred throatily.  
  
"Home," Nagi panted, running his fingers through thick, midnight black hair. "Someone might...see  
us."  
  
Lips pursed over Nagi's collarbone as Crawford's hands roamed over his abdomen. "And would that   
be so bad?"  
  
Nagi arched his hips sharply, squeezing his legs around the older man's waist. "Yes it would be   
bad!" he ground out, his frustration making him snappy. Crawford was making him so hard, his   
erection was actually aching with unspent lust. They had to leave now otherwise he wouldn't be   
able to move at all, if Crawford continued. "Brad please," he groaned as hands slid under him,   
grabbing his ass. "Let's...ohhh fu~ck..."  
  
Crawford raised his head from Nagi's neck. "Is it past your bedtime, little boy?" he taunted,   
rubbing his erection hard against the younger boy's. His tongue slipped out to trace the pouty   
pink curve of the telekinetic's mouth.   
  
Slender fingers shoved at broad shoulders. "Br~ad," he whined breathlessly, his heart pounding   
rapidly. "Come on! We can't do this here!"  
  
"And why not?" Crawford asked softly, his eyes glittering with feral lust.  
  
Nagi's breath caught at the look of piercing desire. He swallowed thickly and forced himself to   
speak. "What if Takatori comes in? Or one of his stupid cronies?" He blinked up at the American   
with wide eyes. "I wouldn't like that. We should be alone, without interruptions, don't you   
think? This my first time."  
  
Crawford's face softened. "I know." His lips swept across Nagi's forehead. "You're sweet, Nagi."  
  
"Um..." His mind twisted into itself. Crawford thought he was sweet? Lord, he really must have   
hit the booze hard.  
  
After a few gauche attempts, Crawford finally managed to stumble off Nagi. He clutched at the   
sofa, swaying drunkenly on his feet.  
  
"Let's go," Nagi said as he hastily re-buttoned his shirt and fixed his tie. He grabbed   
Crawford's arm and steadied him. "Think you can make it to the limo?"  
  
"The limo?" Crawford's face fell. "Damn! I forgot that I didn't bring my car. I wanted to go   
real fast in it!"  
  
Nagi silently thanked whatever God that looked down upon drunken leaders and their young wards.   
For once he was glad that Takatori had provided them with a limo. The last thing he needed was   
to convince Crawford to call a cab or to let him drive.   
  
He led Crawford from the study and down the low-lit hallways. Their footsteps thudded gently   
upon the thick Abrussian carpet. The gigantic picture windows that flanked the corridor cast   
lengthy shadows upon the ornately-papered walls and priceless paintings. Far off in the distance,  
they could hear the sounds of the party, still in full-swing.   
  
Nagi smiled to himself as he hugged the American's arm. Walking through the dim hallway of an   
enormous mansion with Crawford felt vastly romantic. Now he knew what he'd speculated to be true;  
Crawford without restraint was *quite* sexy.  
  
And then, the romance of the night expanded when Crawford suddenly thrust Nagi into a tiny   
alcove, pushing him up against the curved wall. The older man pressed himself upon Nagi, cool   
tongue forcing his mouth open.  
  
Nagi parted his lips and let Crawford french-kiss him. Who was he to fight a good thing?   
Afterall, there was no telling what Crawford would be like tomorrow, when he wasn't drunk and   
uninhibited.   
  
They ended up outside a good twenty minutes later. Clothes were crumpled, lips moist and bruised,  
hair tousled and breathing heavy. Nagi was feeling more than a little light-headed and it wasn't   
clear whether he was holding Crawford up or was Crawford holding him up. Sharp shards of desire   
were twisting and gnawing deep inside of him. This was the edge of desperation. If he didn't get   
to finish what they'd started, he was going to explode. Surely he was.  
  
Apparently the American felt the same way. He had dragged Nagi behind plants and curtains and   
alcoves for random make-out sessions. Crawford hadn't been able to keep his hands off him, still   
wasn't able to. Nagi had long since decided that he liked that. Crawford frantically touching   
him and cooing over him was delicious. Despite the fact that he hated being called 'little boy',   
it felt erotic coming from Crawford.  
  
The night was crisp and windy, rustling through the trees and squirming past the crescent moon   
that shone in the sky's far corner. Their driver was whistling a peppy little tune as he   
polished the passenger door of the limo with a white rag.   
  
"You folks are done early," he said, tucking the cloth into his pocket.  
  
"Take us home pronto, driver-man!" Crawford ordered loudly.  
  
Nagi snickered quietly at the look of comical disbelief on the driver's face.   
  
"Uh...o-okay," the driver stammered, staring at Crawford as he held open the back door for them.  
  
Nagi shoved the older man into the limo and smiled widely at the driver. "He's had a bit too   
much to drink."  
  
Comprehension dawned on the man's face. "Ah, I see." He frowned. "I never would have thought   
that he'd be one to get drunk."  
  
"Me either," Nagi muttered, shaking his head.  
  
"Let's finish what we started, Nagi darling!" Crawford called out in sultry tones from the   
backseat.  
  
Nagi flushed and laughed sheepishly. "Er...ha ha. Don't take anything he says seriously.   
He's...you know."  
  
The driver nodded. "Yeah I know." He leaned close to Nagi and began to whisper in confidential   
tones. "Listen kid, if he tries anything funny, just lemme know, okay? I'll knock him clean!"  
  
"Um...sure."  
  
The driver nodded again, satisfied.   
  
Nagi had barely even entered the limo when Crawford seized his arm and yanked him down onto   
his lap. Neither of them noticed the door snapping shut behind them as they settled for yet   
another steamy make-out session.   
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Schulderich awoke to the infernal whirlings of his archenemy, the blender. He sat up and groaned.  
His lover had shoved everything from his dresser onto the floor and was sitting cross-legged on   
top of the wooden surface, next to his beloved blender. He was currently feeding it crayons and   
lotion.   
  
"What the hell are you doing?" Schulderich grumbled, rubbing at his eyes sleepily.  
  
"I'm grating," Farfarello answered placidly. He shoved a puce-colored crayon into the blender   
and smiled sweetly at the German.  
  
"I can see that." Schulderich impatiently blew a shock of orange hair from his face. "Why do you   
have to do that in here, anyways? I'm trying to get some sleep."  
  
Farfarello looked wounded. "You said that you would help me hurt God, Schu."  
  
The telepath strove for patience. "How the hell does grating in my room hurt God?"  
  
"The things we do together are a prelude to sodomy," Farfarello answered, liberally pouring   
white hand cream into his blender. "And we both know that sodomy makes God weep."  
  
The way Farfarello said 'sodomy', coupled with the way his fingers were covered in lotion, made   
Schulderich think of things naughty. He slipped off his bed and strolled indolently towards his   
lover. "Why don't we skip the prelude?" he purred throatily. He caught one marred, ivory wrist   
and yanked the Irishman roughly off his dresser.   
  
Farfarello wound his arms around the other man's neck. "If you want," he rasped out agreeably,   
pressing himself fully against Schulderich.  
  
As always, lust embraced them swiftly. It consumed them with wriggling ribbons that ate far   
inside and gnawed even after sated. Desire and pure need melded into each other, like a creeper   
clinging onto a stone wall. But this was alive and ravenous, beyond reason and without limit.   
  
The world fell around them as awareness drifted away. There was only sleek skin and hard muscles.  
Soft lips and rigid flesh. Upon the smooth bed sheets, they lost themselves into passion's   
motions. Grinding and kissing, giving and accepting, crumbling into an endless chasm of mindless   
lust.  
  
The redhead cried out in pleasure. Wan lips curved around one hardening nipple, while scarred   
fingers slid down into boxer shorts and stroked erect flesh. Hands cleaved through cropped,   
bleached hair as breathing grew labored.   
  
"Oh *fuck* Farf!"  
  
Diaphanous curtains flailed against the wall as the wind streamed into the room, swirling over   
heated bodies and into racing hearts. Clothes were impatiently shoved off and for a few moments   
only the wind could be heard, while wet mouths lapped at each other.   
  
Then, as pale fingers were fumbling for a tube from the small, bedside table, they both heard it.  
  
A high pitched shriek. Followed by a thick "Please Brad...don't tease me!!!"   
  
They stopped. Jade eyes stared up into amber, desire on hold for the moment.  
  
"Schu, that isn't-"  
  
More cries came from Crawford's room, accompanied by loud moans and whimpers. The German   
into the mind of his teammates and scanned. His eyes grew huge as his thoughts were confirmed.  
  
"Brad and Nagi are fucking!" Schulderich dug a little bit deeper and grinned at what he found.   
"Brad's plastered!"  
  
Bisque-like skin wrinkled in a frown. "Brad drinks?"  
  
Schulderich shoved his lover off him and scrambled out of bed. "C'mon Farf, this I gotta see!"   
He hastily jumped into his boxer shorts. "Hurry up, we're missing all the action!"  
  
"But what about us?" Farfarello demanded as he leisurely slipped into his black pajama pants.   
"We were going to hurt God."  
  
Schulderich grabbed his lover's hand and hauled him off the bed. "We hurt God all the time,   
Farf. Hell, that's pretty much all we do. But Brad doing the kid isn't something you see every   
day. Don't you wanna see them hurting God?"  
  
Farfarello allowed the German to drag him from the room. If there was anything better than   
*him* hurting God, it was watching *others* hurt God. And even he had to admit that the idea of   
Crawford giving up his precious self-restraint was amusing.  
  
"Now I can hold this over his stuffy head for a good long time," Schulderich cackled. He stopped   
at Crawford's door and gently seized the doorknob.  
  
"And they say we're loud," Farfarello muttered, listening to Nagi cry out yet again.  
  
Schulderich place a finger against his lips and then cautiously pushed the door open a crack.   
Both of them peered inside.   
  
Nagi was laying naked on Crawford's bed with the half-clothed American kneeling between his bent   
knees. He was sucking the boy off loudly, the moist suction noises mingling with Nagi's harsh   
breathing. Long fingers were roaming over Nagi's slender chest, causing him to arch off the bed   
and thrust himself deeply into the older man's mouth.  
  
"Well shit."  
  
Schulderich turned huge eyes upon his lover. "I knew what they were doing but actually *seeing*   
it..." He shook his head. "Holy God."  
  
"God isn't holy," Farfarello snapped. "He's a great bastard. And he's weeping now."  
  
He patted the Irishman's shoulder. "Slip of the tongue, Farfie-love." He peeked back into the   
room. "Who would have thought tight-ass Brad could do *that*? And with Nagi, no less. I   
personally thought Brad was asexual. Damn, that guy's gotta get drunk more often! At least for   
Nagi's sake."  
  
"He'll be mad in the morning."   
  
Schulderich shrugged. "That's not our problem. He got drunk, not us." He quietly shut the door   
and graced his lover with a sultry look. "So whadda you say, wanna do what they were doing and   
fuck God up nice and shitty?"  
  
Farfarello didn't need to be asked twice. He roughly jerked Schulderich into his arms and   
crushed his mouth against the redhead's. And here people wondered what he saw in the telepath.  
  
Schuldich scoured Farfarello's mouth with his tongue. He slipped a hand into the other man's   
pants and seized his erection with a clenched fist.   
  
As they stumbled back to his room, Schulderich had to wonder about one thing. How in the hell had   
Crawford managed to get drunk?  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
The sunlight was so bright that for one instance, Crawford was certain he had died. Surely that   
would explain the violent mashing in his head. His brain seemed to be grinding against his skull,  
squeezing into his eye sockets and dripping down inside his face. Everything *ached*.  
  
He forced himself to stop wincing and willed his facial muscles to relax. A steady throbbing in  
his temple accompanied him as he sorted through his thoughts. He was rather shocked to discover   
that he couldn't remember anything. Where he was, how he had gotten there, what had happened...he  
drew a blank at every question.  
  
Cautiously, he cracked open one eye. The blinding light filtered into his vision and wrapped   
itself into his cranium, lashing and jerking. He wrenched his eye shut. Three more painstaking   
attempts and he was assured that he was indeed in his room.  
  
That was good.   
The curtains weren't closed.   
That was bad.  
  
Crawford, if nothing else, was a man of habit. He adhered to his daily routine strictly and   
every night he closed the curtains. No exceptions. So why then, were they gaping open?  
  
Something was obviously very wrong. Inwardly he scowled. Why hadn't his clairvoyance forewarned   
him of this...whatever this was? Not for the first time, he cursed the ambiguity of his powers.   
What good was possessing powers if he couldn't even predict this predicament he was in?  
  
He attempted once more to answer various niggling questions but to no avail. For a few moments   
he simply lay there, feeling the sunlight rinse over his face and against his splintering skull.   
He willed something, anything, to come and clear up the muddle that was his mind.   
  
It wasn't a thought that came but a feeling.  
  
Something cool surged over his warm shoulder, like the softest of winds. It disappeared only to   
be replaced with something smooth and light. He felt it rest against his shoulder, curl around   
his arm. It was sweet, like being embraced by a bolt of silk.  
  
He opened his eyes and turned his head away from the window so he could see what was leaning so   
gently against him. Hair the color of warm milk chocolate dusted the top of his shoulder. Two   
thin arms hugged his left arm to a slight torso, a soft cheek laying upon the curve of his   
shoulder and arm. Inky lashes fluttered lightly upon high cheeks, pink lips parted and exhaling   
upon his sun-kissed skin.  
  
It wasn't until the boy murmured incoherently under his breath and snuggled tighter to his arm   
that Crawford snapped out of his contemplative gazing. He'd been so transfixed with watching the   
telekinetic sleep and marveling at how sweet he looked that it hadn't registered. Until now.  
  
He was in bed with Nagi.  
  
Crawford clenched his eyes shut and struggled not to hyperventilate. His heart was racing in   
unison with the sharp pulsing in his head. He took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. There had   
to be a logical explanation for why Nagi was sleeping in his bed.  
  
A quick peek under the covers confirmed his worst fear, they were both naked. Clothes were   
scattered around his normally tidy room along with his navy blue coverlet. His coverlet which   
was currently sporting a rather large whitish stain. And as if that wasn't enough, marking Nagi's  
dainty shoulder was what only could be described as a 'love bite'.  
  
Jesus fucking Christ on earth I've raped the child!  
  
Crawford felt all blood drain from his face.  
  
With a mindless sense of sheer desperation, he strove to remember what had happened the previous   
night. The clothes that were strewn around his room indicated some sort of formal occasion. So   
they must have been on a mission. But what had happened after that? Why had he done what he had   
done? What had made him do it?   
  
How could I have lost control like that? To the point of hurting Nagi?  
  
By no means was Crawford a virtuous man. He did what he had to do and those things were shady.   
When it came to working, he didn't hesitate to get his hands dirty. But somewhere along the line,  
Schwartz had become more than mere teammates. Nagi especially because he'd practically raised   
the Japanese boy. Nagi brought out in him a protective streak. He honestly cared for the boy.   
And now, being faced with the knowledge of what he'd done to him...  
  
Thoughts and emotions seeped into his mind and crept back out. The only thing that remained   
absolute was a clotting sense of self-loathing. He hated himself, more than he ever had before.  
  
"G'mornin' Brad," a sleepy voice mumbled, jarring him from his thoughts. Drowsy eyes blinked up   
at him as rosy lips curved into a tired yet sunny smile.  
  
Crawford was floored. Why was Nagi smiling at him like that?  
  
He watched with horrified eyes as the Japanese boy leaned up slightly. Smiling lips parted and   
before he knew it, Nagi's soft mouth was pressed against his own in what had to be the sweetest   
kiss he'd ever received. He tasted of petals and innocence, of sunshine and rest. Only when   
Nagi's tongue dipped into his mouth did Crawford realize what he was doing.  
  
Cursing floridly, he shoved the boy away from him and practically jumped out of bed. He hurriedly  
pulled on his plaid pajama pants and rushed away from the bed.   
  
"You know, you're really buff Brad," Nagi remarked, avidly studying the older man.  
  
He wrenched the curtains shut and warily looked at his younger teammate. Nagi had propped up his   
pillow and was reclining against the downy material, watching him with an amused expression.  
  
Crawford plowed a hand into his hair tensely. He didn't know what exactly what had happened,   
other than the fact that he had deflowered the telekinetic, who didn't seem all that concerned.   
"What the hell happened last night?" he demanded, rubbing at his pounding temple.  
  
"Do you want me to get you something for your headache?" Nagi asked, sympathy pooling in his   
huge eyes.  
  
Crawford clenched his teeth. He *loathed* being kept in the dark and not having exact control in   
any given situation. Especially one as horrendous as this. The entire mess was sure to drive him   
crazy. "What I want," he ground out in a slow, deliberate tone, "is for you to tell me what   
exactly happened last night."   
  
"You got drunk," Nagi informed him. "Totally wasted."  
  
Crawford grabbed hold of his dresser to keep from stumbling. "Drunk? I got drunk?!"   
  
Nagi nodded, smiling a bit. "You and Takatori and a bunch of his cronies too. But don't spazz   
Brad, it's not your fault. I checked my e-mail a while ago and Takatori sent this letter saying   
that someone had drugged the champagne last night. Most probably Weiss or something."  
  
"I see." Vaguely, he remembered Takatori offering him a glass of champagne. Well that explained   
his crunching headache and fuzzy memory. But not everything was clear. He was almost afraid to   
continue, dreading what he would find. But he wasn't someone who ran away from the truth. He   
steeled himself. "And...then?"  
  
"We had wild sex!" Nagi beamed, bouncing happily up and down on the bed. "It was the first time   
I ever had sex and it was great! Now I know why Schu and Farf do it all the time!"  
  
"Shut up!" Crawford snapped. He scrubbed at his face with shaky hands. "Just shut up Nagi."  
  
He sank down onto the edge of his bed and took a huge gulp of air. There was no denying it, no   
going back. He had had sex with Nagi last night. Sex with a fifteen-year old boy. That made him   
a goddamn pedophile! He was a lecherous old man! He was even worse than Takatori and his   
schoolgirl-white panties fetish!  
  
"Brad-"  
  
He didn't deserve the understanding of a boy who was simply too innocent to know that what had   
been done against him was wrong. Nagi had always looked up to him, even to the point of near   
adoration, so naturally he would put on a brave front and act as though he'd enjoyed it. God, he   
was such a sick bastard! Even being drugged could hold no excuse for what he'd done.  
  
Cool fingers touched his shoulder and the light touch singed all the way through. He jerked away   
from the bed, away from the boy. "Don't touch me," he hissed.  
  
"Brad, if you'd just-"  
  
"What I did to you was wrong!" Crawford interrupted tightly. "It was rape. I know that I-"  
  
"Rape?" Nagi's voice was incredulous. "You think you *raped* me?"  
  
"You're too young to fully understand-"  
  
"I know damn well what rape is!" the telekinetic shouted. "Fuck Brad, I'm not a kid. Stop   
treating me like one!"  
  
"You are a child," he contradicted quietly. "One I took advantage of. If anything-"  
  
"Brad, you can't rape someone who's willing," Nagi bit out, struggling for patience. "Last night,  
*I* kissed *you*. Do you understand? I made the first move, not you. So stop fucking rambling   
about rape and shit! I'm not sorry we had sex last night. I'm just sorry that you're being such   
a goddamn ass about it right now!"  
  
Crawford tried to process this information. Needless to say, it wasn't easy. Nagi had kissed him?  
Why on earth would he do something like that? And how in the hell could he have let him do it?   
Drug or no drug, it was wrong. Utterly wrong.  
  
"Brad, would you just stop thinking about all that shit?" He slipped off the bed and slowly   
began to stroll towards him. "You're making this unnecessarily complicated."  
  
He turned away from the boy. "Put some clothes on," he ordered uneasily. "And go get ready for   
school. We'll sort this out later."  
  
"I told you not to treat me like a kid," Nagi snapped. "I'm fifteen years old. I can make my own   
decisions."  
  
"The hell you can!" he retorted. "You're not even old enough to drive, to drink, to do anything!   
And here you're saying that-"  
  
Nagi caught his eye "I'm old enough to kill."  
  
He winced and changed his approach. "I'm ten years older than you, Nagi. What happened was wrong.  
You're only a child."  
  
"You didn't think so when you were fucking me last night."  
  
He blanched at the crude words and icy tone. "I'm sorry," he whispered painfully. "Nagi-"  
  
"You're missing the point Brad!" Nagi nearly yelled. "I don't want you to be sorry!"  
  
"Then what do you want?"  
  
Nagi raised his chin and gave him a determined look. "I want you to be my lover."  
  
There was a silence as Crawford stared at the boy. Had he heard right? "You're joking," he   
finally uttered.  
  
Nagi shook his fervently. "I'm not joking. Schu and Farfie are lovers. Those two guys from Weiss   
are lovers. Why can't we-"  
  
"What two guys?"  
  
"At the party last night I saw the redhead and the claw guy kissing," Nagi explained. "They're   
boyfriends."  
  
Crawford frowned at him. "So just because two of those Weiss fools paired up you think that we-"  
  
"Oh fuck off Brad!" Nagi snarled, glaring sharply at him. "Do you honestly think I'm that   
shallow? I don't us to be together just because I saw them!" He shoved a hand through his hair   
and tried to calm down. "We're good together, Brad. You have to admit we are. I respect you and   
admire you and I know you care about me too. Last night was perfect. It really was." He peered   
up at Crawford with earnest eyes. "If you'd let me, I...I could love you."  
  
Crawford tried desperately to maintain some sort of control over the situation but things were   
rapidly spiraling downwards. Nagi was constantly surprising him and saying such...odd things. It   
had gotten to the point where he wished he'd never woken up. What was he supposed to do?  
  
"Kiss me," Nagi murmured, as though reading his mind.  
  
"That I can't do."  
  
"Why?" Nagi burst out. "Because I'm fifteen? How the hell does that matter? You've told me a   
bunch of times that I act older than my age!"  
  
"This isn't up for discussion," he replied coolly.  
  
"Fine then," the boy snapped, eyes glinting.  
  
And before Crawford could say anything, Nagi had hurled himself onto him. His thin body pushed  
against him as smooth lips kissed him. Crawford attempted to shove the boy away but he found   
himself grounded, almost as if...  
  
The brat's used his powers on me!  
  
Indeed, there was almost a delicate type force surrounding him, rendering him motionless. Small   
hands teased their way up his chest as the kiss grew deep. He didn't want to respond, really he   
didn't. This was wrong, this was practically cradle-robbing! And yet, there was nothing he could   
do.  
  
His mouth was teased open and then Nagi's tongue was squirming and exploring inside him. Thin   
fingers roamed over his sternum, stroking over his nipples. Narrow hips gently ground against   
him.  
  
In the past twenty-four hours or so, his self-restraint had vanished and was now replaced with   
thickening lust. He had no defenses against Nagi and it became too much, unable to move away,   
unable to touch.   
  
He could only kiss Nagi back and he did so, hard. He thrust at the boy's tongue, dominating the   
kiss. Their mouths worked hungrily at each other, crushing and sucking with bruising force. Arms   
wrapped around his neck and he could feel the boy's heated erection through his pants.  
  
Time stood still as their embrace strung high. Feelings encased rationality and for the moment,   
everything else was forgotten.  
  
Nagi stepped back and released the hold on him. Dark eyes looked up at him. "You want me," he   
whispered breathlessly.   
  
Crawford brushed his bangs from his hair. "It's a physically reaction," he muttered, self-hatred   
growing by the minute. He cursed himself. What was he doing? How could he want a child as much   
as he did? It was sick and wrong.  
  
A tiny voice inside of him spoke up then. Isn't your chosen profession 'sick and wrong'? As if   
sleeping with the boy will make you any more of a bastard. Face it, you're going straight to   
Hell no matter what you do. Why not make him happy? Who knows, maybe he really does love you. At   
this point, you may as well take it because you probably won't be getting love any time in the   
near future.   
  
Crawford paused.  
  
Nagi was shouting at him again but the words didn't register. Instead, he found himself   
remembering pieces and bits of last night. Kissing inside the limousine, rushing into his room   
and tearing off their clothing, making love and then cuddling after. He remembered how sweet   
Nagi had been, how trusting and innocent. So he had enjoyed it. They both had enjoyed it. But   
that didn't mean that it was right.  
  
Where do you get off deciding what's right and what's not? You who are an assassin.   
  
He cared about Nagi. He didn't want to hurt him. Life had already been so cruel to the boy with   
powers that no one understood.  
  
You're gonna hurt him more with your rejection than if you agreed.  
  
"Oh shut up," he muttered, pressing a hand to his forehead. Stupid voices that dared to show up   
now, of all bloody times.  
  
"No I won't shut up!" Nagi snapped, scowling. "You didn't care that I was fifteen last night!   
You told me that you wanted me! I don't care how drunk you were, you can't take that back! I   
won't let you, it isn't fair!" And then he did it. He blinked wide eyes and pouted. "Why can't   
we just be happy, Brad?"  
  
Crawford swore. He hated when Nagi pouted. He looked so unbelievably cute that he just couldn't   
say no, no matter what it was. And when Nagi blinked in that adorably confused way... He swore   
again.   
  
"I'll start whining," Nagi threatened. "I swear I will. And I'll call Schu to back me up. Then  
you'll never win." He smiled suddenly. "You may as well concede while you still have some   
dignity. I'm gonna win no matter what."  
  
He couldn't stop himself. He reached out and brushed silky bangs from huge eyes. "Is that so?"  
  
Nagi looked up at him solemnly. "I was once told by a very intelligent man that if you want   
something, you have to strive endlessly for it. Sound familiar?"  
  
Crawford recognized his own words and he realized then, just how much the boy had learned from   
him. "That can work both ways, can it not?"  
  
"Would it help if I told you that I'll be sixteen soon?" Nagi asked hopefully.  
  
Faintly, in the distance, he could hear his rigid self-control shattering into a myriad of   
useless pieces. "Come here," he ordered softly.  
  
Nagi stepped forward, until they were almost touching. He titled his head up to meet Crawford's   
gaze.  
  
"Last night, did I hurt you?" he asked, trailing his knuckles down the slope of the boy's smooth   
cheek.  
  
Liquidy eyes fell shut. "No," he whispered, leaning into his touch. "Last night was perfect. If   
you'd remember it, then you'd know."  
  
Ah but he did know. So what should he do now, given that knowledge? Or did he already know?   
Maybe he was weak and Nagi was strong and it was time to let go. He didn't know anymore, nothing   
was clear. Things would need to be re-evaluated.   
  
But at the moment, he found himself pulling Nagi into his arms and kissing him softly.   
  
The telekinetic whispered his name as small finger reached up to touch moist lips in   
astonishment.  
  
It wasn't going to be easy, exerting restraint around Nagi. He kissed the boy's forehead gently.   
"Go get dressed now. You've got school."  
  
A hundred questions lurked in wide eyes but he only asked one. "Will you take a shower with me?"  
  
He thought about it and finally nodded. Just another sin to mark on the scoreboard.   
  
Nagi beamed, his face beautiful at that moment. "I knew that we'd be perfect together, Brad!" He   
stood on tiptoes and pressed an enthusiastic kiss upon his mouth before grabbing his hand and   
leading him to the bathroom. "We should get married!"  
  
Crawford smiled. If it made them both happy then, maybe, it wasn't a sin afterall.   
  
~*~Owari~*~  



End file.
